


Text Tones and Lawsuits

by pastandfuturequeen



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastandfuturequeen/pseuds/pastandfuturequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor changes Oliver's text tone. Oliver's boss is an ass. Prison orgies are considered and celebratory sex is called for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Text Tones and Lawsuits

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed some fluff after the events of 1x04. Forgive me for any legalese that I probably ended up butchering in this fic, and please comment and tell me what you think! Happy reading.

Oliver brought his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and valiantly trying to clear his head. He had been left to stare at his laptop screen for the past seven hours straight writing a dozen stupid reports that his boss was _supposed_ to have done a week ago but had elected to dump on _his_ lap right before the weekend.

With a weary sigh Oliver lowered his hand and cursed his incompetent boss, Tom. Tom was a short man, plump and unattractive with a mop of curly light brown hair thrown atop his head. He was lazy, incompetent, and lecherous to all of the unfortunate girls that crossed his path. Not for the first time, Oliver wondered exactly how the man had gotten his position, with it’s comfortable office and plush chair, while everyone else was restricted to a cubicle and stiff plastic boards meant to act as desk chairs.

Regardless, Oliver didn’t have a say in the hiring decisions of his agency, and wisely kept his mouth shut when around the revolting man.

Truly, his patience was being tried when the very topic of his disgust arrived at his cubicle, signature cheap suit adorning his pudgy form. As Tom swaggered up to him, Oliver was vaguely reminded of a pig trying to act like a peacock, and failing miserably.

“Are those reports done yet, Olly?” Tom’s nasally voice rang loud above the subdued noise of the large office space, purposefully drawing attention from Oliver’s co-workers. 

Oliver grit his teeth, but kept his face composed. “My name is Oliver,” he reminded his boss.

Tom waved a hand dismissively. “I didn’t ask about your _name_ , I asked about those reports. Don’t tell me you haven’t finished them?”

“Not all of them,” Oliver bit out. “I’ve finished seven, but the other six will need more time–” a loud moan burst through the small cubicle, lusty and wanton and so very, very loud. Oliver snapped his mouth shut, eyes widening to saucers as he looked down at his phone, the source of the anomaly.

It lay innocently next to his laptop, the screen turned down towards the desk. When Oliver turned once again, it was to find Tom staring at him, nose wrinkled in disgust. “No wonder you don’t have your reports done if you’re been watching gay porn all day!”

Yes, and there was another thing that Oliver hated about his boss. Thomas Richards was a textbook homophobe, who preened off of making others feel embarrassed for their sexuality, as though it were a crime.

Sure enough, the exclamation had brought more attention towards them. Tom’s expression transitioned into a smug grin in light of this newfound audience. “Keep your dick in your pants and this is the last time I’m warning you to stop using the company computers for your gay needs. Now go do your job!” with that, Tom spun on his heel and swaggered away, looking far more pleased than he had when he had arrived.

Oliver’s face flamed with mortification and anger. A snicker came from across him, and he glared at the co-worker that had done so. The sound ceased, and everyone turned back to work. Oliver turned back to his laptop, hands clenching into fists as he grabbed his phone.

A new text had arrived from Connor. It read: “ _Are you bored yet at your desk job? I just got off, and will be expecting you when you get home._ ”

A brief flare of arousal erupted from the obvious innuendo in the text, but was quickly replaced with anger. Oliver shut his phone off and didn’t respond, typing furiously at his laptop to keep his mind away from homicidal imaginings.

-

Oliver had calmed some by the time he had got off work twenty minutes later. He wasn’t a very angry man by nature – it just wasn’t something he did very often. But as he entered his apartment and heard movement from the kitchen, his anger from that day’s occurrence flared again.

Oliver dropped his briefcase near the door and stomped through his apartment towards the kitchen. Connor was already there, adorning a tank top and boxers along with his signature smirk. He had a bottle of water in one hand, and Oliver spotted dazedly the bead of moisture that had managed to escape the younger man’s lips.

“Did you like the new text tone?” Connor asked, leaning against the counter. 

"Is that what that thing was?" Oliver scoffed.

"Yes, it's a text tone. It means you've got a text," Connor replied sagely. “Pretty ingenious, don’t you think?”

Oliver raised his brows, a scowl forming on his face. “Not really, no, not when it went off in front of my boss and the _whole damn IT department!_ ” Oliver snapped.

If possible, Connor smirked wider, obviously amused. “Then I just made you the envy of everyone there. My job is well done,” he commented.

“Not when it means that my homophobic boss made it seem like I was watching porn on my laptop instead of doing my work as well as the dozen reports _he_ was supposed to have finished a week ago but he couldn’t because he was too busy leering at anything with boobs that walked while still getting paid more because he’s a pompous ass that takes any chance he gets to make me feel ashamed of who I am and who I fuck!”

Connor’s smirk vanished, replaced with a concerned frown. Oliver let out a shaky breath, his bubble of anger receding some now that he had finally given voice to his frustrations. He slumped back against the counter behind him, shutting his eyes and forcing himself to calm down.

Oliver relaxed when he felt two strong arms wrap around him, pressing him to a warm chest. He sunk against Connor’s form, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist.

“Sorry you had to go through that,” Connor murmured against his ear, pressing a kiss to Oliver’s neck. “Your boss is a fucking ass and you shouldn’t have to do his shit. Nobody deserves that.”

Oliver sighed and pressed his forehead against Connor’s shoulder. “I know,” he replied.

“Besides,” Connor added, after they had stayed like that for some minutes. “I think that boss of yours is just jealous that he doesn’t have such a fine piece of ass waiting for him when he gets home.”

Oliver laughed at that, relief flooding his chest and making it light again. “Must you always be so cocky?”

“You know you love my cock,” Connor replied, punctuating his statement with a roll of his hips.

Oliver sucked in a breath, his groin becoming far more interested in the conversation than it had been prior. Connor grinned and pressed open-mouthed kisses to Oliver’s neck, his hand reaching up and teasing Oliver’s nipple through his shirt.

“Tonight, I’m gonna make you scream until you forget your boss and can’t remember anything else but my name,” Connor purred, voice low and seductive. Oliver shivered and grabbed the other man’s face, kissing him hungrily and pressing their bodies closer together.

Connor growled and rocked his erection against Oliver’s, moaning into his mouth. Oliver grabbed Connor and led them both backwards out of the kitchen to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went and throwing them carelessly to the floor.

That night, they had wild, angry sex until Oliver could do nothing more than pant and scream himself hoarse.

-

Next Monday, Oliver returned to work with a bounce in his step. While Friday had started with frustration, it had certainly led to a sex-filled haze throughout the rest of the weekend. Really, Oliver should be paid for the amount of control it took to even leave his bed that morning.

The incident on Friday had all but left his mind until later that afternoon, when Tom stopped by his cubicle again.

“Happy, I see Olly. What’s got you in such a mood when you still haven’t finished the rest of those reports?”

Oliver groaned internally and braced himself as he turned in his chair, wincing only slightly at the hard plastic against his – though he was embarrassed even to admit it – tender and slightly bruised ass. He sent a silent curse to Connor for leaving him in such a state, though if he were being honest there hadn’t been much complaining at the time.

Tom, his beady eyes surprisingly sharp for a change, saw Oliver’s reaction and scowled. Oliver’s good mood immediately dissipated and sank to his stomach. “From _that_ I can guess you were too busy using you ass this weekend to actually do your job. Typical. If you don’t pick up the slack–”

“-And if you don’t lay off my client you’re going to have a lawsuit on your hands.” Oliver turned his head so sharply he was sure he had gotten whiplash, eyes widening because he _knew_ his ears had deceived him.

But no, his ears had been correct. Connor Walsh, dressed impeccably in a sharp suit and carrying an official-looking suitcase, strutted towards them. He glanced towards Oliver, and while to others it may have appeared like a cursory glance between two men, Oliver recognized the glint in Connor’s eyes that said he was going to get shit done.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Tom demanded, his beady eyes narrowed into slits.

Connor turned to Tom, his voice smooth and clipped as he replied. “I am Oliver Rivera’s attorney, and I have come to represent my client for a lawsuit against Thomas Richards. I’m presuming by the ugly suit and pompous demeanor that would be you. Do you care to take this to a more private setting?” Connor gestured towards the door that led to Tom’s office at the other end of the room. 

Confused, but firmly believing that he was insulted, Tom fumed. “What kind of bullshit is this? You can’t just come in here and threaten me with a lawsuit!”

“Actually, I can." Connor cooly replied. "My client has received numerous instances of harassment for the past two years that you have been appointed as his employer. These instances include, but are not limited to intimidation, discrimination due to sexual identity, coercion into performing work that does not fall to his jurisdiction, and forced overtime without pay. There have been numerous accounts from other employees of similar behavior, and if you refuse to comply with our list of terms, you will be sued to an inch of your life and forced to resign from your current position.”

The entire floor had gone completely silent, all eyes wide and turned towards the legal slaying that was pouring out of Connor’s mouth towards their hated boss.

Tom had turned pale, his eyes gone wide with fear. He had no doubt understood little of the allegations against him, but had quite obviously been spooked regardless. Noting that he had an audience, Tom shifted and spoke with a trembling voice. “Follow me.”

The two headed towards Tom’s office in the next room, Tom leading with nervous footsteps. Connor followed closely, turning only briefly back towards Oliver and winking before closing the door behind him.

Oliver waited at his cubicle for fifteen minutes, his ear deaf to the rest of the office that immediately erupted into murmurs of conversation as soon as Tom and Connor had been out of sight. Oliver did not join in, far too busy worrying about what the actual _fuck_ Connor thought he was doing! Oliver knew for a fact that Oliver was still in his first year of law school, and nowhere near able to actually perform a lawsuit.

Images of Connor being locked behind bars for harassment and impersonating a lawyer flooded Oliver’s mind. And while Connor would undoubtedly be able to work with the orange jumpsuit and make it look fashionable Oliver would never be able to visit him every week, and God would Connor even want him to? Or would he be too busy screwing the inmates and making everybody his prison bitch and _dammit now was not a good time to be having pornographic thoughts of Connor in a prison orgy_ –

Tom came out of his office a minute later, looking significantly scared, though looking marginally more composed than he had been before. He looked pointedly at Oliver and waved him over. Oliver stood, feeling the eyes of his coworkers at his back as he headed towards the office.

Oliver closed the door behind him, fear gripping his heart. Connor stood composed beside the single other chair in the office, a hand laying almost casually on the backrest. Tom pointed Oliver to sit in the chair, and Connor pulled it out for him.

Oliver sat wearily, and glanced towards Connor, who adorned a seemingly bored expression. Tom cleared his throat.

“I – ah, I’m sorry for doing all of the things your lawyer said. Just – give me all of the reports that I told you to do, and I’ll do the ones you haven’t done – and I’ll pay you for the ones you did do.” Tom stumbled, wringing his hands together and looking at the ground. Oliver had never seen his boss in such a state. It was quite satisfying.

As Tom continued his garbled exclamation of forgiveness using borrowed words that were too complicated for his usual vocabulary, Connor discreetly reached inside his pants pocket and took out his phone, hiding what he was doing behind the chair Oliver sat in.

Oliver wondered exactly what Connor had done when he felt his phone vibrate, and the same moan – Connor’s moan – from the week before bounced through the room.

Tom paused in his speech, opening his mouth as though to say something when Connor just raised his sculptured eyebrow at him, challenging. Tom shut his mouth with a click, face flushing as Connor looked on, a very smug expression on his face.

A tense moment passed where Tom offered his last apologies and asked them to leave his office.

Oliver exited before Connor, who closed the door behind them, a light smirk on his face. Oliver openly stared at him, disbelief coloring his features. “God, I thought you were going to end up in a prison orgy,” Oliver blurted out. 

Connor raised his brows, obviously amused and Oliver felt his cheeks flame. With a look that said Oliver would definitely explain himself later, Connor headed towards the elevator, strutting as though the entire room were his runway. 

Oliver headed back towards his cubicle, taking out his phone and looking at the screen. A text from Connor said: “ _Congratulatory sex tonight at 10. See you then._ ”

Oliver leaned his head against his desk, laughter escaping his lips

-

When he got home, Oliver explained his outburst and the two had sex until morning come. Oliver never really got around to changing Connor’s text tone.


End file.
